"Gimme some sugar!"
One shot from the parasol. The further it flies, the harder it hits.
Close up? Barely a scratch. Across the map? Goodnight.
Super: hops away, drops grenades from her garter. "Poppin'!"
"Aww, sweetie?" — headshot confirmed.
"Kiss my grits." — she's in the lead.
"Well, I do declare!" — someone got too close.